


The Bossa Nova Baby Affair.

by malfoible



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoible/pseuds/malfoible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I make love to you Cowboy, it will not be on a dance floor in front of hundreds of people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bossa Nova Baby Affair.

“No, niet, no, never, I shall not do this, prance around like a puppet…Cowboy should do it not me, why me…I can not, I shall not…dance…”

Solo was leaning against the wall laughing at his partner.  
Illya was pounding on Waverlys desk emphasising every word, making the pencil pots jump and tremble.

Waverly, not at all put out by the angry Russian said calmly.  
“Mr Kuriakin I’m sorry but it has to be you. Mr Solo is too well known. I’m sure you’ll do a brilliant job as usual. “

“But it is impossible, I cannot dance.” Illya reiterated hoping that would be the end of the matter.

Napoleon stood up for his partner. “He is right there sir, I’ve seen him…he can’t dance. No rhythm.”

“Then you shall have to teach him Mr. Solo. And quickly. The competition is in one weeks time.  
He must be ready for his dancing partner Miss Romanova, who will be arriving on Friday.  
Get him ready by then Mr. Solo. I’m relying on you.”  
He nodded towards the door.  
“Five days Mr. Solo.”

Solo ushered a still protesting Illya out of the door.  
“Five days, it’ll take a miracle.”

Napoleon decided it would be better to work from his apartment so that’s where they headed.  
They moved the furniture back against the walls to give them more space and Solo found a pile of different dance records to play on the turntable. 

When the music began he smiled in enjoyment. His partner looked as if he was going before a firing squad.

“Come on Peril it’s dancing it’s meant to be fun. Samba…Tango…Bossa Nova Baby.”  
He stripped off his jacket and tie as he danced round the room shaking his hips, shimmying, moving in time to the music.

“Did you just call me Baby?” Illya looked shocked.

“An expression Peril…come on dancing is fun, relax, shake your kinks out, get with it Baby.”

Illya looked aghast, “I will try, but only if you stop calling me Baby.”

Solo laughed and moved closer as Illya shrugged off his jacket. He put one hand on Illyas waist then took his hand.

He spent the next half hour trying to get Illya to relax.  
To get Illya to allow him to lead. To allow Solo to touch him without flinching.  
Solo was exhausted.  
Then as Solo was about to say let’s have a break and maybe a martini, Illya found his rhythm, he swayed his hips and moved his feet.  
He even held Solo in his arms as he moved.

Napoleon grinned. “See I knew you’d enjoy it.”

They managed to get through the next couple of hours without mishap.

Illya still was unhappy with Solo leading but he explained that once Illya had learned the steps then he could take charge.

“When the woman comes she will expect you to be in control.  
A good partnership is about give and take, you lead and guide her steps. She draws you in with her passion.”

He looked at Illya as he spoke, they still had their arms round each other. Heads close together.  
A glance passed between them… a feeling…nothing either of them wanted to acknowledge just yet.

They stepped apart.

“Enough for one day…will you stay for a drink?”

Kuriakin looked at his watch. “Look at the time. I am going to be late for my weight training.”

He crossed the room and picked up his coat putting it on as he walked to the door.

He looked back with a short pang of regret. “Tomorrow…I’ll be back tomorrow…At nine ok?”

Solo nodded and moved to the tray of drinks in the corner.

“Tomorrow…see you then.”

 

Solo had done his homework overnight and had found some film of a couple doing the Tango.  
He watched it, imagining himself and Illya being that close, so in step with each other.  
He showed it to Illya next morning.

“You will have to do the Tango at the competition. Judges love the Tango, so do audiences. It’s not so much a dance as an exhibition of love…of lovemaking…”

The Russian looked worried. “I don’t know if I can…perhaps we should try something easier…today…”

“Yes of course, I only wanted to show you, as a demonstration. We’ll try something easier, not so much touching. The Bossa Nova. That’s fun.”

Illya was not so stiff this morning, quicker to relax and let go a little.  
He seemed to be enjoying himself, even laughing as Solo showed him how to wiggle his hips.  
Solo had ordered lunch in and they sat close on the sofa to eat, thighs touching, passing each other food and drink.

The afternoon sped quickly by. Solo allowed Illya to lead and enjoyed the smile on the Russians face as they moved round the floor.

He didn’t ask Illya to stay this time. Not wanting the feeling of disappointment if the other refused.

 

Solos dreams were filled with Illya, dancing together, holding each other, bodies pressed close together, lips almost touching…he woke with a sigh.  
Was he imagining these feelings…the tension between them…?

Kuriakin, across town, had tossed and turned all night. Unused to introspection he found it difficult to martial his thoughts.  
The past couple of days had been filled with so many different feelings he felt lost…was it only the closeness of the dancing?  
Napoleon was a renowned flirt was this just his way, to make Illya relax, to make the assignment go smoothly.  
It felt more than that, there were feelings, sparks, something…. special.  
Running through the day in his mind he realised he liked Solo holding his hand…the touch of Solos hand at the small of his back…his scent…the way his eyes lit up when he smiled.

Time was running out they had to begin learning the Tango. 

They were both uncomfortable, lost in their own thoughts.  
Illya had regressed to the first day.  
He was uncoordinated and stiff.  
Solo was afraid to hold his partner close in case all his feelings came out.   
The first hour was hell.

Rubbing his forehead in annoyance Solo entered the kitchen and made a pot of tea.  
He carried a cup back to Illya.  
Sitting down, he turned on the TV and played the piece of film from the previous day.

The couple on the screen were dancing the Tango, slowly building up the passion as the music swept them away.

Napoleon and Illya watched, barely blinking as the pair played out their love story on the screen.

Solo held out his hand and stood up.  
“Come Illya we can do this. Together.”

They danced, the steps coming easily, swaying together and apart. Perfectly in time to the music.  
Illya took the lead and caressed Solo as they danced.  
A hand on a cheek. A long stroke over the shoulder and down the arm to grab the fingers as Solo slipped away.  
Pulling him back…pulling him close.   
He wrapped his arm round Solo and dipped him backwards.  
Solo tipped his head back baring his throat in invitation, Illya licked a long stripe up his neck towards his lips just as the music came to a halt.

Breathless and panting they looked into each others eyes, lifting Solo upright Illya completed the kiss.   
His own lips tingled as they touched his partners, a moan from Napoleon as he opened his mouth.  
Illya plunged his tongue inside, he slid his hands lower, down Solos back, to caress his ass, pulling him closer and closer grinding them together.  
Solo moaned again as he felt Illya hard against him and rocked his hips in pleasure.

The telephone rang.

“Just checking to see how you are getting on Mr Solo? And let you know Miss Romanova will be with you tomorrow.”

Solo pulled Illya close, his hand round Illyas neck, his tongue licking Illyas lips slipping into his wet heat, kissing him over and over. 

“We need to find a new dance Baby. No way in hell are you doing the tango with anyone else.”

Illya frowned before catching Solos lips and plundering his mouth.

“What did I say about calling me Baby?”


End file.
